Keeping The Peace
by scandinavianreveries
Summary: As the rebellion begins to set Panem ablaze, two young peacekeepers dispatched to District 12 must face life altering decisions about their loyalties, loves, dreams, and character. Whose side will they end up fighting for? Runs along the same timeline as Catching Fire/Mockingjay.


She could feel the room going numb. Time began to slow and the gasps of the people around her sucked the room of air, leaving a suffocating feeling in its place.

"That can't be right. That isn't fair. That isn't fair," an anguished cry broke the silence and the room was thrown into utter, sudden chaos. Papers and chalk and books began to fly, thrown about with the ferocity of a grenade.

Verity Fleury sat motionless at her desk, pale hands folded across her tartan skirt. The teacher scurried to shut off the projector, cutting short the broadcast from the Capitol. No one could hear Caesar Flickerman over the screaming anyway.

District 2 had always been a Career District, one whose children aimed at making a life out of winning. It was with valor, vainglory, and programmed bloodlust that every year, hundreds of young people lept at the Reaping stage, teeth gnashing, arms waving, all vying to be the first to volunteer as tribute for The Hunger Games.

But now that opportunity was gone. The 75th Hunger Games were to be fought by existing victors, and for those in the 18-year-old class, the prospect of honor, riches, and escaping the drudgerous life of bricklaying, had vanished. The future they were trained for no longer existed and a heavy sorrow clung to the backs of those whose days ahead now held nothing but chore.

Verity's heart was not broken by the news of the Quarter Quell's twist, however. Verity was not by any means a weak woman, but it was still of great reassurance to her that if she were ever to be called forth during a Reaping, others would fight to take her place. Occasionally, the tribute who managed to make it to the stage first to volunteer would be too injured to enter the Games. Verity had other ideas for her future, a future she had already seen fall apart once before.

Verity uneasily looked around the classroom as the teacher attempted to calm her rioting students. The classroom was like most in her school, an imposing, gray school of five stories and about seven hundred students. It was a concrete room with large windows, low, flickering lights, and a few posters taped carelessly to the wall. The only object that appeared to be handled with any care was the flag of Panem, draped across the wall parallel to the blackboard. The blackboard itself was covered in a biology lesson, written in haphazard handwriting. No one cared about biology in District 2. Especially not on days when announcements from the Capitol were made. A collection of spitballs and paper airplanes lay like carpeting near the teacher's desk.

Lessons were always taught quickly. Lessons were always forgotten. It made no difference, in the end.

A bell rang in the distance and Verity gathered her things. She walked quickly to the door and mumbled her condolences to the crying clumps of Careers too stunned to leave their seats.

A vase of long forgotten nasturtium flowers shook as she hurried past, worn black boots clacking as she went. A petal floated down unnoticed to the stone floor.

x

Verity had one more lesson for the day. After the regular lessons of the day were complete, every student took a job-oriented elective that spanned several hours. Most of those training for The Hunger Games selected an "athletic" elective. It was against the law to train for the Games before they occurred, but as District 2 was held in the Capitol's highest regard, training went on under the guise of "sports practice". Most other students took an elective in masonry, the District's traditional craft.

But Verity's elective was different. Despite District 2's general loyalty to the Capitol, peacekeeping was often viewed with mild malcontent and suspicion by others, and so very few chose to pursue training for Panem's gendarmerie force. It was often gossiped, by the non-Careers anyway, that those who were willing to forego a family and children for twenty years, no love save for the Capitol, had a cold void where their hearts should be. And as Verity was the top peacekeeping student, she was seen as something of a malicious enigma.

A girl had once whispered that Verity's green eyes held no forest or spring in them, but rather, mold and decay. To the girl's awe, Verity drew a sharp breath, turned around, and nodded her head in agreement.

x

The peacekeeping room was vastly different from other rooms in the school. Located in the basement, it was a renovated auditorium kept pristine, with modern glass desks in front of the chairs, neatly arranged information sheets and flags on the white brick wall, and a theatre sized projector in the front of the room, above the stage.

The main teacher, Claritia Voxe, was a formidable woman whose angled face currently held a wide, sly smile. She was a retired peacekeeper who had spent most of her time serving in District 11, the agricultural district that those in District 2 were told was a violent and disorganized dystopia. They did not take advantage of the Capitol's many gifts, Ms. Voxe had informed the class.

Today, she stood with perfect posture and patient silence until the class, whose numbers were far too small to fill the sizable room, had taken their seats.

"Good afternoon, my peacekeepers."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Voxe."

"I'm sure you've all heard the news by now, about the Quarter Quell?"

The class murmured their affirming answer.

"This is bad news for some of our friends in the athletic path. Surely, they must be crushed and we must support them in any way we can. But, my dears, this is a good opportunity for you."

Ms. Voxe moved to ready the projector, her warm, dark skin growing pale in its artificial light. The film that began to play was like nothing the aspiring peacekeepers had ever encountered before.

It appeared to be late at night. The sky was awash with stars, something one didn't see in District 2. The cobblestone roads were empty and nostalgic looking, and a peacefulness began to settle across the room. Verity settled back in her seat, a yawn escaping from her mouth.

The peace lasted only a few heartbeats longer, however, and in a moment, hoards of people poured like a flood toward what appeared to be a justice building.

Verity bolted upright.

The people were gaunt and shivering, but their eyes were wild, deadly. Fires started burning in the darkness as wailing and the infamous whistle of Katniss Everdeen mingled with the smoke that seemed to engulf the moon and stars. Peacekeepers were wrestling some of the protesters to the ground, but more kept coming, a tidal wave of madness splashing across the town. The blood of both peacekeepers and protesters pooled in potholes along the streets and it never stopped. A young woman was shot in the head after knocking a peacekeeper to the ground. An old man had a flamethrower turned on his home after he was found sheltering wounded protesters. Verity waited incredulously for a lull in the chaos that never came, an order that was never restored.

After approximately fifteen minutes, Ms. Voxe turned off the projector and swiveled around to look at her students, waiting for someone to break the stunned silence, a fierce grin still upon her lips.

"A rebellion," a girl's trembling response echoed around the room. "A real rebellion, that's what it is, isn't it?"

Verity turned to look at the speaker. The girl was, of course, Maisie Warsea, one of the students Verity liked least in the class. It was rumored she was placed in peacekeeping after the school counselor decided she needed more "grit to match her wit" and Verity believed it. A year below Verity, Maisie was frail and unhappy looking. Her blonde hair hung without dimension around her shoulders, and her russet colored eyes were like the dead leaves of autumn. She was intelligent, but flighty and condescending. Verity focused back on Ms. Voxe.

"Yes! A rebellion. And this is serious! It is believed the districts are upset with the Games and forgetting what the Capitol provides for them. This video you have just seen took place in District 8, but similar events are happenings all across the country! Districts 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, and 12, as well as our lovely 2, have thus far stayed quiet, but it is becoming problematic that these things are happening. We've lost six peacekeepers thus far. Six!" Ms. Voxe waved her hands about in a dramatic, sad fashion.

"But you, my dears...it's time for a new unit in this class. With the shortage of peacekeepers and these foolish riots...It's time for you all to get a little hands on experience. We must not forget that the Capitol has been good to us. We must repay them...and perhaps," Ms. Voxe added quietly with a voracious look in her eye, "we must remember our friends Cato Lingonfrost and Clove Summercrown in this fight. Especially Cato, many of you knew him from this school! And also, you must know these protests have been inspired by Katniss Everdeen." Her voice grew nearly inaudible and almost apologetic. "We musn't forget it was her who caused an empty seat at the table of Cato's family."

A buzz overcame the auditorium, some students discussing the idea of field work with eager tones and others with reservations. Only two students sat without words, a slightly sick Maisie and a poised, hungry Verity, fists clenched at the mention of Cato.

"I understand you may have hesitations," Ms. Voxe said in a melancholic way, "but you are needed. Our athletic friends are needed in the Games, to bring victory to our district. This year they are needed to support our tributes, and keep training for future Games. Our friends in masonry are needed to bring infrastructure to our beautiful home. You are needed to protect us. Tomorrow, you and all of the other peacekeeping students from the other villages will come to the train station at half past five, after the train for the Quarter Quell tributes leaves for the Capitol. You will be assigned a district and a partner beforehand and will get to experience hands-on what it's like to be a peacekeeper, without the twenty year commitment! We're thinking this assignment may last just until the Games are complete, so you will not need to pack much…"

Verity had stopped listening. She twirled her black hair anxiously around her slim fingers, heart racing.

Remember Cato. Fight for Cato. Avenge Cato.

She had remembered watching from the side of the crowd when he made it to the Reaping stage first, somehow unscathed and eyes ablaze, volunteering as tribute for the 74th Games. Alongside the majority of Panem, she didn't doubt his eventual homecoming. She mostly wondered if he would remember her, and the long, lazy days they'd once spent together, after he returned a hero on high.

When his cannon fired, all Verity could hear was screaming, pained, sickening screaming she only later learned was her own.

A commotion on the other side of the room roused Verity from her thoughts. Ms. Voxe had began giving out district assignments.

"Oh, Miss Warsea? Did you not hear me, dear? Stand!" Maisie stood, her hands shaking and clammy with sweat. Verity saw as Maisie folded them behind her back, mistakenly hoping no one would see her nerves coming through.

Ms. Voxe cleared her throat and read from a small card, "Maisie Warsea, seventeen, skilled academically and with technology. Peacekeeping scores in the lower range, but shows potential. Your assignment is going to be District 12."

Maisie's brown eyes grew wide.

"You've made a mistake!" Maisie called out. Ms. Voxe raised an eyebrow and looked down at Maisie. "No, Miss Warsea. I have not made a mistake. Do not be afraid. District 12 has been surprisingly under the radar thus far, and will soon have a new head peacekeeper, a man named Romulus Thread. He will keep you safe. Besides," she stepped off the auditorium's stage and gestured to her right, "you have a great partner to work with. I'm sure your brilliant minds will be able to easily come up with an efficient plan to crush any uprising if you work together."

And much to Verity's chagrin, at the end of Ms. Voxe's outstretched hand, was Verity herself.


End file.
